Wednesday, October 26, 2011

do not wear polyester in africa

I had a small revelatory moment while sitting at the Red Cross waiting for another meeting to begin that ended up being cancelled. There’s no rhyme or reason to our meetings. They are meant to be weekly, but some weeks they are decidedly cancelled with no explanation other than a “I’ll see you next week,” although I sense that it’s contingent on attendance.
I was sitting with a couple of the other volunteers who are close to me in age. They have frequently asked for things from me like airtime for their cell phone, money for haircuts, meals, and the very bag that I was toting my belongings in. I grew frustrated with the repeated weekly requests and conveyed that I am asked for things at least 5 times a day. I tried to explain that I cannot provide for and say yes to every person that asks for things. I was a little frustrated just in the nature of our interaction and these expectations for some materialistic contribution to validate our relationship. I was having one of those weeks where I felt like I didn’t have a friend in the world because there were some ulterior motives for wanting to interact with me. When I responded with a bit of hasty frustration to her last request for my bag, I just wanted her to understand what it’s like to be in my shoes and feel this uncomfortable disappointment in not being able to satisfy people’s wants and expectations of me. The truth is, everyone asks each other for things here and generally everyone is communal with almost everything they own. This particular volunteer read my frustration and tried to explain herself, giving the example that she had an umbrella and if I asked for it she would give it to me. The thing is that I provide for myself and I find a way to provide the things that I need so that I don't have to ask someone else and that is not the mentality here. I don't want her umbrella. I want my own. AND THAT'S where we differ and I realize that I am so American, for better or for worse. We want our OWN land, personal space, car, umbrella...what have you. I wish I could have a more communal spirit about me with everything I own, and in my IDEAL world I would, but here...it's just not realistic to decipher when and how often it's appropriate to provide things. However, I'm at least glad to recognize that hang-up that's been bugging me for months and put it in words.

I have just returned from the capital city where we had the 50th Anniversary celebration for Peace Corps. It was one of the best weekends I’ve had since I’ve arrived here. I found myself so happy to reconvene with every volunteer in a festive spirit and even meet some of the new ones that arrived in September. I also stayed at our director’s house, where he and his family showered us with the greatest hospitality. We indulged in strawberries, sour cream, English muffins, and cheese…all on separate occasions, of course. A few of us arranged to go to dinner at the Indian restaurant and those flavors just danced on my palette like a summer rain. In terms of foods, I'm totally satisfied for the time being. We also got to use the WASHING MACHINE! I offered my hair cutting services in return, which seem to be improving and provide a nice hope for my future if all else fails. Kidding. Kind of.

In one of our conversation we also came to the consensus that corn is our staple food in America. Genetically modified and altered to extremes, corn is a component of almost everything we use and consume. I've been asked several times what are our staple foods in the States and I found myself at a loss for words thinking how within any given day I can access such an array of cuisines that I didn't even know how to explain having that many options. Mind you, this is also after my recent viewing of Food Inc. That was a strange perspective on meat production, watching it from afar. It also made me a little less reticent to taste meat when they have a braai here. I have tasted freshly slaughtered and cooked chicken and beef since being here and I enjoyed them all the more probably because of the notion of "fresh meat" is still a novelty to me. In addition to apples being a more normal size, the chicken breasts are not competing with human size. As my father would say when we had grilled chicken breasts for dinner, "I'll have the Dolly Parten special."
Another thing I am enjoying here is recognizing a seasonal pattern to the foods that are available in the grocery stores. Even recognizing and learning to be a bit more compatible with the climate is somewhat new, maybe not compatible but more compliant and observant. Whereas in the States we have such climate controlled settings and escape the extremes with the push of a button. I'm not raggin on the A/C and the heaters though. I miss those things being readily available. Within the course of 4 months or so I've gone from sleeping in a down jacket in a down sleeping bag under 3+ blankets to sleeping in a stiff heat where I can't seem to get naked enough to be any cooler.

Anyway, enough of that. I’ve returned to Moshupa with a rejuvenated spirit and comfort in the routine of my life here. Things are beginning to pick up with the DAC (District AIDS Coordinating) Office between all the planning for World AIDS Day and a retreat we are having next week. The retreat is us going to the middle of nowhere Botswana (the site specifically chosen for limited cell phone access-minimizing distraction) to plan and coordinate plans and budgets for the upcoming year. I am a little excited, despite what I’ve heard about the nature of these retreats. I also got to meet with the lady that runs the lodge we are staying at. She has married an American man and she was quick to engage with me on my life here. He husband is from San Diego and works on computers in Gabs. I swear, I’ve met more people from California in coming to Botswana than I have ever known in my time in the States. I will say, the more I meet, the more I’m convinced that I’m destined for that region of the States.

Other than that, not much to report from Moshupa. Britt and I have been planning a few more things for New Years in Mozambique. I am getting so excited for such a change of scenery and celebration, although planning travels is complicated with unreliable internet access. My mouth just waters at thoughts of shrimp and seafood on the coastline of the Indian Ocean. I’ve never seen the Indian Ocean!!!

Earlier on I thought it was annoying that I didn’t have anything to read the temperature and I didn’t need a weather station to tell me that there was no chance of rain for the day. Now, I’m just happy to not know exactly how blasted hot it is. I haven’t purchased a fan yet, but it is quickly rising on my to-do list. Also the A/C is out in the office. Don’t know when that will be fixed, probably not until it’s a health hazard to be trapped indoors in such extreme heat. The bugs are also coming out from every crack and crevice in my house…spiders, gecko/lizards, bats, flies, and mosquitoes. With such a plethora of bugs and such, you learn to pick your battles and the spiders and flies have become more like welcome roommates rather than combatable pests…particularly with the presence of bats. My landlord asked me if the bats had come yet. Before I came, he lived in this house and apparently the bats are seasonal guests to the house, particularly in my bedroom at the front of the house. He didn’t seem phased by it, so I’m trying my best not to concern myself too much with that. For now they only live in the walls and poop through the small openings of the wall ventilation. I have a can of Doom in every room of my house. You can spray it in a room a few hours before entering the room and it works like a bug bomb. In other cases, it’s like a murder weapon to just kill whatever pest on contact. It’s toxic for sure and I have found my bath towel smelling of Doom on more than one occasion.

On another note: I haven’t experienced rain for about 5 months now and walking home the other day I felt a singular raindrop on my cheek. I was so surprised I honestly thought that maybe a bird had just pooped on my face. I felt a couple more drops on my leg as I continued walking and decided it was most definitely rain. There was nothing beyond those few drops, but I remain hopeful for it in the coming days as the rainy season approaches. My only fear is that life doesn’t change with the arrival of the rains. I was TOTALLY hoping for a culture that recognized a kind of rainy day hiatus, letting Mother Nature take over the day’s activities, but it seems here we just continue as usual. I will probably not weather the storm, walking across the village on those days and will resort to taking a taxi. I can’t imagine how that works seeing as how there are not nearly enough taxis to accommodate everyone in the village, but I’ll keep you posted.

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